


Disappointment

by TheRealLadyLoki



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, Cutting, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Peter Parker is an Avenger, Post-Coital Cuddling, Precious Peter Parker, Self-Harm, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 23:09:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11610879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealLadyLoki/pseuds/TheRealLadyLoki
Summary: That was all he would ever be to Mr. Stark. A failure as a hero. A failure as a lover. A complete and utter disappointment all around. Peter thought he'd gotten used to disappointing others... He'd just thought that Tony would be different.Set immediately after the Staten Island Ferry scene, where Tony forces Peter to return the suit.





	Disappointment

Peter knew first-hand how it felt to be a disappointment. Since he'd been bitten by that radioactive spider, he could count on one hand the number of successful patrols he'd undertaken, crimes-in-progress that he'd thwarted, and stolen merchandise he'd returned to its rightful owner. 

He just wanted to do better, to  _be_ better. To be the hero that Tony Stark was so sure he could be. And he'd tried - he'd tried  _so fucking hard_ \- and now, he stood on the rooftop, staring into Stark's cold, emotionless brown eyes, and he knew without question that once again, his efforts had fallen short of the mark. 

"Give me back the suit." It wasn't a question. Peter felt a cold chill run down his spine at the thought of abandoning this symbol of his pride. It was all that he had. 

"I... I can't." He cursed himself silently. How could he ever expect to stand his ground against Tony Stark if the mere thought of disagreeing with something the older man said had him quaking in his damn boots? "I'm Spider-Man." 

Tony was clearly unimpressed, "If you aren't Spider-Man without the suit, than you aren't much of a hero, kid." The condemnation in his tone cut him like a knife. 

As pitiful as it was, Peter had no other arguments to stop him from reclaiming what was rightfully his. His wide eyes drifted down to the ground and he mumbled, "I don't have a change of clothes." 

"Something can be arranged." 

He'd cried into Aunt May's shoulder, the scent of her perfume and the feel of her cool hand running up and down his back failing to soothe him as they ordinarily would. He'd spent the night in his bedroom, stewing over the fact that it had taken him almost losing his life (and failing epically at defending the hundreds of lives aboard that ferry) for Tony to take a vested interest in his well-being. He was either way-overprotective or completely inaccessible - there seemed to be no middle ground. 

What the hell did he think that the FBI would be able to do against a man that stole alien technology to augment human weaponry? That anti-gravity gun could whip Peter around like he was a feather, and snap his webs like they were twigs caught in a lawnmower - and Peter could stop a bus with his bare hands! Last time he checked, most FBI agents hadn't been bit by radioactive spiders that gave them superhuman abilities. 

He went into the bathroom and grabbed a disposable razor from beneath the sink. It was easy enough to snap the flimsy plastic beneath his foot, and he grabbed the pieces and took them back into his room - the last thing he needed was Aunt May to stumble upon the broken bits of razor when she went in the bathroom tomorrow morning. 

"This is how I feel about stupid Tony Stark and his stupid... fucking... internship." He growled, bringing the blade down hard on his wrist and making three clean cuts. Though the others had faded somewhat over time, it was clear that this was not the first time he'd cut himself. 

Peter didn't realize he was crying until one salty tear dripped down into his still-bleeding wounds, and he hissed as a sharp pain wracked his body. More tears fell, and he collapsed to his knees beside his bed. Tony was right - he wasn't a hero. He was weak and pathetic and he couldn't even handle the criticism he knew that he deserved, instead turning to the blade to make himself feel a little less miserable. 

And then, a sick thought occured to him - where was Tony Stark now, when Peter was putting himself in danger by his own hand? He laughed brokenly, his vision still blurred by tears. Or did it not matter, as long as Peter didn't die by making an ass of himself trying to play hero? 

"I'll never be an Avenger." He sniffled, wiping at his eyes with the oversized t-shirt he'd never bothered to change out of. "I'll never be anything to him but..." He looked at the still-bleeding wounds, before swallowing hard, "I'm just a disappointment." 

He fell asleep like that - kneeling beside the bed, arm bleeding sluggishly and blade clutched loosely between his fingers. He dreamed of the ferry, of all those people screaming in terror, of how he'd failed them miserably. Of how they'd all be dead if Tony hadn't shown up at that precise moment. What would he have done if they'd all perished because of his short-sightedness? The burning ache in his injured arm was his only response. 

* * *

Hey. It's Peter. Peter Parker. I need to talk to Mr. Stark. - PP

Mr. Stark has nothing to say to you at this time. - HH

He supposed that he should feel thankful that he'd gotten a response at all - Happy wasn't exactly known for returning any of his phone calls or text messages. Not for the first time, he found himself irritated by the fact that he had to go through Happy to have any connection with Tony at all. The only other way he'd been able to get ahold of Iron Man had been via the suit, and... well...

It had been a little over a week since Tony had taken the suit away from him, and Peter had his razor blade had become close friends in that short period of time. He was running out of excuses for cutting gym class, and Aunt May was getting suspicious about how desperate he'd become to avoid physical contact. Peter didn't like to keep secrets from his Aunt, but he knew that divulging something like this to her would hurt her even more. So he kept his silence, and his distance. 

"What's going on with you, man? You've been so distant - I mean, more distant than usual, what with your -," Peter put a hand over Ned's mouth, effectively silencing him before he could spill the beans about his former 'internship'. 

He narrowed his eyes at the other teen, "I lost the internship, okay? And I don't wanna talk about it." 

"Oh, man." It was like the other teen practically deflated at the news - to an outsider, it would seem as if he were taking the news harder than Peter himself had. "Guess you're not gonna need a man in the chair after all, huh?"

A nod, "Guess not."

"I hear that Tony Stark's a real bastard anyhow. A total pain-in-the-ass to work for, and with. Who needs him anyhow?" Ned was just rambling now, trying to fill the silence. 

How can Peter tell him that, for one blissful moment, Tony had been so much more? In the back of Happy's car, on the way back from the Bronx, they'd kissed. It had started out as a joke, a funny tidbit in the alibi video for Aunt May that Peter had been instructed to 'edit out' later on... But when Tony had reached over him to unlock the door, no cameras rolling, Happy's attention unhappily diverted, he'd kissed him again, slow and sweet. 

It was wonderful and perfect and everything that Peter could have wished for in a first kiss... and so illegal, it wasn't even funny. Just mentioning it to his best friend, even if it would effectively silence his tirade against Tony, could potentially land Tony in prison for a very, very long time. 

Instead of confessing to their illicit relationship, Peter just whimpered, "I really thought he was different. He seemed like a pretty decent guy -,"

"Yes, well, looks can be decieving - I mean, I never would have guessed that my best friend was our very own friendly neighborhood -," the hand flew up, covering Ned's mouth once again. Man, he really hadn't been kidding when he said he was bad at keeping secrets.

"Yeah, not anymore. I'm just your friendly neighborhood Peter Parker, who keeps his feet on the ground - where they belong." Peter said firmly. He started to scratch at the gauze around his wrist, wincing as the wounds reopened and began to bleed afresh.

"Right." An awkward silence brewed between the two, neither unsure of where to proceed from here. Finally, Ned asked, "So what do you plan to do with all this free time now?"

Peter shrugged. He really didn't want to do  _anything_ , except lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. "How about we rebuild that Lego Death Star?"

Ned's eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas Morning, so Peter suspected that that was the right suggestion to make. Besides, having someone else with him, even if it was only for a little while, might help to distract him from the blade he kept hidden beneath his pillow. He'd taken to keeping it close on hand - the last several nights he'd woken in a cold sweat from the night terrors to find that the blade was his only friend. 

After all, Tony wouldn't even talk to him. The only one he could hope to commiserate with wouldn't even spare him the time to day. It was just like before, only so much worse.

Because now, he'd had a taste of how perfect his life could be if Tony were in it. If he could have his metaphorical cake and eat it too. But Tony didn't trust him, and after everything that had gone down, he didn't deserve Tony's trust. Tony would never return his feelings now. He'd just become another notch in the playboy's belt.

* * *

He stood outside of Avengers Tower, or rather, what was left of it - the rest having already been relocated to upstate New York - wondering what in the hell he thought he was doing. What would he prove, storming in there and demanding to see Tony, except that he was just as immature and ill-prepared to be a hero as everyone already assumed he was? He should just turn around and -,

"What the hell are you doing out here? Do you have any idea what time it is?" He could be asking the older man the same question. Its almost 2AM and he's exiting the tower in nothing but a tank top and sweatpants, looking like he hasn't slept since they'd last met a week and a half ago. "Your Aunt must be worried sick about you -,"

"Aunt May thinks that I'm at a friends house." Peter said, licking his lips. It was a nervous habit he'd picked up, a tell for when he was lying. "He'll cover for me if she calls."

But Tony didn't seem overly concerned about his lie, "Why are you here, kid?"

"I didn't know where else to go." Peter whispered, his voice so soft Tony could scarcely hear him.

That's when he noticed that the kid was bleeding. Even in pitch blackness of the night, there was enough light radiating from Avengers Tower for him to see the growing stain on the boy's sweatshirt sleeve. Without a word, he grabbed his arm and thrust the sleeve back - his brown eyes grew horribly wide when he saw the damage.

Peter started to sob. He'd come to Tony with the intent to tell him that he was right - that Peter wasn't ready for the responsibility that had been thrust upon him, that he just wanted to help and that he hadn't meant to make as big of a mess as he had. He'd wanted Tony to forgive him, to kiss him again...

It seemed like he'd only succeeded in making the older man angrier. 

Tony dragged him into the tower and into the nearest elevator, hitting the button that would take them to the penthouse. The entire ride was spent in silence, with Peter attempting to reclaim his injured arm and Tony refusing to release him. Finally, with a soft 'ping', the door to the elevator opened and Tony dragged him inside. With a none-too-gentle shove, he pushed him down onto the California King and disappeared into the bathroom to get the first-aid kit.

"What on earth could ever be worth taking a blade to your own skin?" He bit out. It sounded like he was yelling, and Peter recoiled from the sound. The last thing he wanted was for Tony to be even more upset with him. Perhaps he shouldn't have come - "I'm waiting." 

Peter swallowed hard, before whispering, "I'm a disappointment. I try and I try and I just... I just wanted to be good for you, Tony. I wanted to impress you. For the first time in my life, I didn't want to be the screw up. And then... then the ferry... and you took the s-suit..."

Tony softened when the kid began to sob again, "Why does my opinion mean so much to you, kid? Nothing and no-one is worth hurting yourself like this."

"Because I love you! I  _love_ you, damn it! I'd do anything for you and you  _used_ me like I'm some sort of fucking toy and then put me on a shelf indefinitely, promising me that I could be part of something greater, that I could matter, if I just worked hard enough! And I tried. I tried so damn hard. And I'll never be good enough for you!"

"Peter..." Tony found himself at a loss for words, totally unsure of how to help the young man before him. So he buried himself in the task of tending his various wounds. 

Peter closed his eyes, unable to handle the look of disappointment he knew would be gracing the older man's face. "I didn't... I don't..." He swallowed hard, mentally screaming at himself to spit it the fuck out already. Tony was a busy man - he didn't have time to be taking care of some kid that just couldn't deal. "I don't want your pity." 

"I don't pity you, kid." Tony answered almost immediately. Before Peter had a chance to misconstrue his words, however, he added, "I just... I never meant for things to deteriorate this far. I never knew... never expected... God, in case you haven't picked up on it yet, I'm really shitty at this whole role model thing."

Peter sniffled, "I only ever wanted you to l-love me... like I love you. That's all. Everything else was just an added bonus." He laughed brokenly, "Guess I got too cocky, huh?"

Tony didn't answer. Instead, he took out a small spray bottle of disinfectant and sprayed the wounds, distracting the young boy from the sting by gracing his lips over his. It was soft and sweet and so, so gentle... tears of an entirely different sort began to trickle down the boy's cheeks, and Tony wiped them away with the pad of his thumb. 

What Peter didn't understand was that Tony was so protective over him because he felt the same. He wanted to nurture the boy, to give him all the kudos and congratulations his own father had never lavished upon him. He wanted to see him blossom into a full-fledged superhero, one worthy of carrying the title of Avenger. He wanted to be the one to help bring that side out of him. It was only after the Civil War concluded that he realized his feelings for the boy extended far beyond that of a mentor for their student. 

Tony was also smart enough to know that acting beyond a simple kiss, tonight, would ruin any chance he had with the younger man. He might not be the best at understanding how relationships worked, but he knew that Peter would likely construe any physical affection or confessions as an attempt to keep him from hurting himself again. He'd sunk so deeply in his depression that he'd likely think that Tony was making up any feelings he might have - that he was trapping the older man against his will. 

"I never meant..." Tony licked his lips, his golden tongue failing him for the first time in recent memory. "I never meant for things to deteriorate like this, Peter. But you were out there, flying around like you had some sort of death wish and that's not what I wanted for you. You've always been enough, Pete. Always."

Peter hated how pathetic he sounded when he whimpered, "Then why don't you love me?"

Tony didn't answer with words. Instead, he securely bundled the boy in a blanket and laid him down on the California King, before shucking off his ratty old tennis shoes and climbing into bed beside him. He wrapped his arms as tightly around him as he dared, tucking the boy's head beneath his chin and humming one of his favorite Zepplin songs until he fell asleep in his arms. For Tony, however, sleep did not come that night.

* * *

The next morning, Peter awoke in his own bedroom with nothing to suggest that the night before had been anything more than a very lucid dream. 

He went back and forth to school, completed his month of detention (plus a few added days for skipping out early that fateful afternoon), and even scored a date to homecoming. In short, he was living the normal high school life - even if the community around him as abuzz with the recent disappearance of their friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. In fact, it was almost like nothing had even happened. Except that Peter remembered everything. 

It wasn't until after he'd taken down Toomes that he went back to the blade hidden underneath his pillow. Yeah, he'd proven that he didn't need some high-tech suit in order to be a hero - the hero was inside of him all along. And he'd single-handedly saved Happy from losing his job. And yeah, there was no telling what would have happened if all of that alien tech had fallen into Toomes' hands. Spider-Man had saved the day. So why did he still feel like an epic disappointment?

He'd need to be more careful, though. He made six shallow lines diagonal to the scars that already littered his arm - they didn't bleed much more than a scratch from a house cat would, but they burned. He winced every time that his shirt would rub up against the wounds, irritating the fragile scabs. 

Peter had skipped his class right before lunch to clean out the wounds in the bathroom sink, and that's when he ran into Happy. For once, he actually seemed pleased to see the young man... until he saw the marks that littered his wrist. Thankfully, he knew better than to mention them. "The Boss wants to see you."

Peter's light brown eyebrows furrowed together, and he pointed toward one of the many stalls that seemed to be occupied. "In... there?"

Happy actually barked an almost laugh, "No. He's upstate." He started for the door, "C'mon, kid. He doesn't like to be kept waiting."

\-----

The new Avengers Tower was every bit as impressive as he'd thought it would be, and he was more than a little intimidated to stand in its presence. Happy seemed more than happy to give him a short tour of the facilities, and while Peter followed closely behind him, 'ooo-ing' and 'ahh-ing' at all the appropriate times, he couldn't help but feel small and out of place knowing that this building housed some of the world's greatest heroes. 

He wasn't even worthy of keeping his suit, which Tony had taken the time to hand-make for him. He was a waste of space that would never bear the mantle of Avenger. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a large hand landed on his shoulder, "Calm down, kid. It's just me." Tony Stark came around to stand before the young boy, "Can we have a minute, Happy? I'd like to talk to the boy... alone."

Happy nodded. It was fairly easy for the big man to fade into the background, but both Peter and Tony knew that he was not terribly far away. "Why did... Why did you want to see me? I thought you'd made it pretty clear that you were done with me after what happened -,"

Tony pressed a finger to his lips, "This isn't the place to talk about this. C'mon, I'll take you to my suite."

This time, the silence in the elevator was considerably less awkward than it had been several weeks before. Without a word, Tony reached out and took the younger man's hand, squeezing it in a show of silent affection. Peter swallowed hard, willing himself to look up and meet Tony's eyes. When he did, he found the billionaire-playboy-philanthropist smiling at him - it was a smile he had not seen before, so bright and beautiful that it reflected in his eyes and it made the corners of Peter's mouth twitch upward. 

The elevator doors opened with a soft 'ping', and Tony's attention was taken away again as he led them down the hallway and into his master suite. That strong hand doesn't release his until Peter is once again sitting at the foot of Tony's bed, Tony pulling up a chair beside him. And then, he did the unthinkable. He grabbed hold of Peter's wrist and forced his sweater up until all of his scars, and the still fresh wounds, were exposed. And suddenly, Peter felt like crying once again. 

"I was a lot like you when I was a kid." Tony began softly. He traced his thumb over some of the long-healed scars, "My Dad was distant and cold... entirely unapproachable. No matter what I did, it always could have been better. I've said it before - he wasn't big on praise.'

"I never took a blade to my skin, but... There are other ways to self-harm. I've been self-destructing for years with alcohol, drugs, women... I know how it feels to not think you're good enough, to think that you're a lost cause that everyone should just give up on. And it makes me sick to think that I ever made you feel that way."

Peter began to squirm under Tony's gentle attention, "It's not your fault. I should've just listened to you from the beginning and not -,"

Tony cut him off gently, "It's nobodies fault." And then, a bit firmer, "And really, I'm in no place to judge your actions. If I were in your shoes, I probably would've done the same thing. Lately, it seems like more and more of my screw-ups are what cause this sorta thing to go down in the first place -,"

Peter seemed affronted by the idea that Iron Man could ever 'screw up'  _anything_. "But you're like  _the_ Iron Man - the greatest hero ever. You don't just 'screw up' -,"

"Have you been living under a rock these past couple years, kid? I sold weapons to very bad people to make my fortune. I created Ultron and almost leveled an entire country. There's a shit ton of blood on my hands, and it isn't because I've never screwed up before. Moral of the story - shit happens, and I shouldn't have come down on you like I did."

"I deserved it." Peter said softly, staring down at his hands. 

"No." Tony said firmly. He put his hand beneath the boy's chin and tilted his head back, "No, you really didn't."

They stared into one another's eyes for several moments, and if Peter was feeling better he would've laughed about how much it felt like a scene from one of those cheesy rom-coms. Finally, Tony closed the distance between them and brushed his lips gently over Peter's. And Peter, having grown tired of the older man treating him like a China doll, grabbed him by the lapels of his suit and dragged him in until their chests were pressed flush against one another. 

As they drew apart for air, Tony found himself being pulled down atop the smaller teen. He tensed for a moment, and Peter hurriedly drew back, afraid that he'd pushed too hard, too fast... but then those sinful lips pulled back into a sort of smirk, and he pressed a teasing kiss to the side of his mouth, the curve of his chin, the pulse-point of his neck... One hand slipped up underneath the boy's shirt, stroking his left nipple in slow, lazy circles until he'd teased it to hardness. 

Peter was already breathing heavily, his erection straining against his jeans. Tony laughed as the kid rutted uselessly against him, desperate for some sort of friction to end his suffering. "Please, Tony..." he whispered, pawing at the older man's clothing. " _Please_ -,"

"Mmm... tell me what you want, Peter." He implored, his attention now focused on the other nipple. Peter bucked into him, Tony just barely moving his hips out of range in time.

The teen now had tears in his eyes for an entirely different reason, "Y-You. Want y-you." 

Tony's features softened, and he kissed the young teen again before whispering, "You have me. You've always had me."

It takes some effort to pull away from the boy's vice-like grip, but when he does he allows his hands to travel down... down... until nimble fingers catch on the zipper of Peter's jeans and yanks it down, reaching inside to take hold of his beautiful cock. Their eyes meet again, and suddenly Tony has all of Peter inside his mouth and the boy practically went limp beneath him. Hollowing his cheeks, he bobbed his head up his down, trying to bring him to completion as fast as possible.

As he was only seventeen, it didn't take long. With a startled cry, he came with a shout, spilling his seed down Tony's throat. Tony swallowed down every last drop, before pulling off with a wet 'pop' and tucking the boy back into his pants. When Peter came back down from the high of orgasm, he realized that Tony was still achingly hard.

"T-Tony..." When Tony realized what the boy was referring to, he laughed. 

"Don't worry about me." Tony whispered, cocooning Peter in a blanket and cuddling with him in the bed. "We'll talk more in the morning, alright?"

Peter was silent for a moment, until Tony smoothed his hand over Peter's back and shooshed him gently. "Okay."

 

 

 


End file.
